


Enough

by May_Seward



Category: Forever (TV)
Genre: F/M, god i miss this show, i didnt use character names but it was these two i had in mind, may or may not have been inspired by Taylor Swift's song "You Are In Love" from her album 1989
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-26
Updated: 2015-12-26
Packaged: 2018-05-09 12:15:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5539607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/May_Seward/pseuds/May_Seward
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She needed a friend. He was always there.<br/>OneShot inspired by Taylor Swift's song "You Are In Love".<br/>Written with Henry and Jo (from ABC's Forever) in mind but really, it could be any pairing you like.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Enough

**Enough**

* * *

_One look, dark room_  
_Then just for you_  
_Time moves too fast_  
_You play it back_

* * *

The bar they had decided to meet at was dark and the music was loud. It wasn't really his scene, but who was he to deny a friend? She was grieving all over again and had asked for his companionship. He'd never been good company at places like this, but she knew that.

She was already a round in when he arrived and before he'd even sat down she was ordering him a drink.

* * *

_Buttons on a coat_  
_Lighthearted joke_  
_No proof, not much_  
_But you saw enough_

* * *

She didn't notice him approach until he was halfway across the room. His coat was buttoned against the chilly city weather and his nose and cheeks were pinched from the cold night air. He shot her a look as he sat down. It wasn't sympathy - not exactly. It was more like he was saying "I know how you feel so I'm going to stay here until you tell me not to".

Since when have they been able to read each other like that?

Instead of letting her mind go down that road, she said, 'So this is what it takes you to get away from work.'

He chuckles, eyes dancing. 'You could say that.'

* * *

_Small talk, he drives_  
_Coffee at midnight_

* * *

They talk about everything except why they're there for hours. Suddenly, she feels restless and tries to stand. She stumbles, head spinning and giggles.

'Come on. You've had enough,' he says, paying the tab and helping her outside. He spies her car a few yards away. 'You're an idiot for driving here,' he mutters, then holds out his free hand. 'Keys,' he orders. She fumbles for them and hands them over.

She knows what he's doing, but still she asks, 'How are you sober enough to drive?'

He looks down at her then, and there it is: the pity. It's there in his eyes, almost mocking her, though she's certain it's not his intention. She leans into him for warmth so she doesn't have to see him feel sorry for her.

'I switched to soda two and a half hours ago,' he says so softly she feels the words rumble through his chest rather than hears them. Then he's pulling away and unlocking the drivers side door of her car.

When they arrive at her house, he makes her coffee and sits with her on her front steps, telling her stories.

* * *

_The light reflects the chain on your neck_  
_He says, "look up" and your shoulders brush_  
_No proof, one touch, but you felt enough_

* * *

She's sitting a little apart from him, he realises, on purpose. She has her eyes closed, listening to him talk, but not really. She's leaning forward a little, empty coffee mug held between her hands, forearms braced on her knees.

The smell of snow is in the air and any of the stars that would be visible through the light pollution are well and truly blanketed by cloud.

'Hey,' he says, realising they had both lapsed into silence a while ago. 'We should go inside.'

She might be cold, but it's more of a numbing sensation now and she doesn't want to move just yet. Instead, she says nothing and studies the cracks in the concrete step below her. He doesn't move either. Not for a moment.

'Look up,' he says. His voice is the warmest thing she's encountered all night and it makes her obey.

'Oh,' is all she replies. Lacy white flakes are drifting through the air in slow spirals, dancing in the light breeze.

'Come on,' he says, shoulder brushing past her as he moves and then he's standing, towering over her from her position on the ground. Then his hands are gently teasing her to her feet and again she obeys because until he moved she hadn't realised how much she'd been relying on his body heat.

He escorts her up the stairs to her bedroom, but doesn't cross the threshold, instead he waits.

She hesitates. The numb feeling is gone now and she wants to ask him to stay because she doesn't want to be alone right now. Then, for the first time, she wonders if she'd still want to ask if it was someone else. Unwilling to delve into that territory just yet, she sighs warily and says, 'Thank you.'

He nods. 'Anytime.'

As if his answer would have been anything else.

The next morning, when she finally staggers downstairs to the coffee machine, he's there, curled up on her couch and fast asleep.


End file.
